


Darkness Falls

by DJSparkles



Series: The Oak and the Orcslayer [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dark, F/M, Gen, Graphic Torture, Horror, Suspense, Torture, Very very dark, both psychological and physical, mentions of suicide/assisted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:45:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJSparkles/pseuds/DJSparkles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Follows The Oak and the Orcslayer. An enemy of Thorin's surfaces to create havoc. Lives are shattered. Friendships are strained to the breaking point. Can anything ever be the same again? WARNINGS: graphic torture. Angst. Horror. Rated M for a reason. Thorin/OFC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very disturbing fic. Those who have trouble with depictions of torture, angst, horror, etc, are strongly recommended to give this a pass. If you do read and it upsets you, that's your own fault. 
> 
> Thanks to my lovely hive sisters for giving me courage...

Dwalin and Inara Orcslayer were on their way back to their home in the Lonely Mountain of Erebor when they were ambushed.

They had been on a simple hunting trip. That they had been out at all had been due to Thorin's insistence that Inara not coop herself up in the mountain for too long. She was human and needed the sun, he insisted, and it was either go hunting a couple of times a year or be dragged away for a while. She had chosen the former, of course. An angry Thorin was a daunting prospect, and if she hadn't listened, he would have been. He would never hurt her, but the shouting matches provoked by his temper tended to give her a headache. So, she had gone, taking Dwalin with her as another concession to Thorin's concern about her safety.

She was well able to take care of herself. She hadn't earned the name Orcslayer by being some frail, fainting female. However, she had to admit that there were times she needed a little help. So she hadn't objected overmuch when her husband “suggested” she take Dwalin along. 

Now, she was glad she had him with her. Orcs were dangerous at best, but these seemed to be even more so. They were organized, moving as a team, and the thought disturbed her. She had only seen one other band like this, and it had been an army that sought to take Erebor and kill Thorin Oakenshield. Her husband and King of Erebor, King Under the Mountain. It had been under the direction of a Gundabad Orc, the likes of which Inara had seen only once and wished never to see again.

They were quickly subdued and bound, nearly dragged into a cave some distance away, and thrown into a cage made of bones. She shuddered and moved a little closer to Dwalin before she was able to compose herself.

“Easy, lass,” Dwalin said softly. They had been separated from their weapons, of course. “We'll get out of here. Just have to think of the way.” He was already searching the place for possible exits. If he could just reach one of the daggers hidden in his belt... “Inara. Back up against me.”

She did as he asked, her fingers touching his lightly. Did he mean for her to untie him? She couldn't work the knots, they were too tight. “Now what?”

“In my belt.” He couldn't get his fingers on it, he couldn't raise his arms to the right angle with the ropes on his wrists. “See if you can reach my knife.”

“You keep a knife hidden in your belt.” She should have known. He probably even went armed in his bedchamber. She was searching quickly. “Dwalin, we need to talk about your paranoia.” But she was able to get her fingers on it and had begun to draw it from its sheathe when a commotion near the back of the cave caught their attention.

“Wait,” he hissed. “Don't let them know we've got it. We might need it when they come for us.”

A sudden silence warned them and they turned to look out of their prison in time to see the huge Orc enter the cave. Sudden comprehension flared when it turned to regard them. Inara had never seen such a dangerous, evil looking creature, even when Razhnok had nearly killed Thorin on the battlefield months before. This one made him look like an unbreeched youngster. He was huge and he looked beyond cruel.

Dwalin twitched. This was a Gundabad Orc, one of the northern type, cruel and vicious. And he had a certain resemblance to one Dwalin had known before: Azog the Defiler, who had been so intent on killing Thorin. If this one was the same, they were in trouble. “Inara, listen to me,” he murmured. “Do NOT let them know we're from Erebor.” He couldn't say why he felt it was important, only that it was. “No matter what, don't let them know.” If this thing was truly Azog's spawn, they were in worse trouble than he'd thought. It might know who he was, regardless.

It sniffed a bit and growled. “Dwarf,” he said simply, “and human. Is it a pet, Dwarf? Humans are worthless as anything else. More slow and stupid than even Dwarves.” It regarded them steadily. It stepped back for a moment, watching them. “Bring me the human.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains graphic descriptions of torture. If you choose to read further and are squicked or otherwise disturbed, sorry. You've been warned.
> 
> My thanks to the Hive for helping me and supporting me while I wrote this...

Dwalin put himself between her and the door immediately. “No.” He wasn't going to let this Orc anywhere near Inara. There was too much violence contained in it and he wasn't going to let her get hurt if he could stop it.

The big Orc stared at him. “You, I know,” it said finally. “Dwalin, son of Fundin, friend to Thorin Oakenshield.” The hatred in its voice was nearly tangible. “Well, well. It seems I have found a prize.” He tilted his head slightly and regarded Dwalin with cruel calculation. “You will tell me how to draw him out of his beloved Mountain, Dwarf,” it spat finally. “You will tell me so I can kill him.”

“No.” Dwalin couldn't let this thing find the truth about Inara. If it knew she was his wife – Mahal, there wasn't a word strong enough to describe what harm it would do. 

“I am Bolg, son of Azog, and what I want, I will have.” Bolg towered over the cage then, his face taut with fury. “Bring the human. I will have answers, Dwarf, and she will suffer for every time you deny me.”

The lesser Orcs pressed into the cage, overwhelming them once more. Dwalin raged and tried to get to her, but was prevented. He had to find a way to protect her without betraying Thorin, but he could find no answer. 

Inara snarled at Bolg as she was dragged forward and forced to the ground in front of him. “He will never tell you anything,” she railed before one of the Orcs kicked her in the face. She was hoping, through the haze of pain, that Dwalin would understand. He couldn't betray Thorin, not even to keep her safe. His first responsibility was to his King. 

Dwalin caught her gaze and held it. “I'm sorry, lass,” he said softly. Yes, he knew what she was asking of him. He only hoped he could hold to it. 

He wasn't certain he'd be able to. They brought up a cat-o-nine with steel barbs on the tips and Bolg flicked it expertly in the air, testing. It would strip the skin from her back, one little bloody piece at a time. And it would be agonizing.

The first bite of the cat wasn't so bad, she thought dazedly. Her face hurt worse where she'd been kicked. Then she felt it and it took all her will not to scream. And her will wasn't strong enough for long enough. She progressed through screams to ragged sobs, desperate for it to end and unwilling to beg. 

Bolg finally threw the whip from him and knelt down in front of her. One long claw touched her face, turning it to him and he growled. “You are afraid,” he snarled. “Good. You should be.” He rose then and glanced to Dwalin. “One word from you would stop this. Tell me how to bring him to me.”

“I can't.” It took all he had to speak those words. Inara was already badly hurt. How much more could she survive? She was human, for all she had the heart and spirit of a Dwarf. 

“Then we will begin again.” He had a brazier brought forward, filled with irons, and Dwalin had to close his eyes. He snarled as she was branded, the sigils indelibly burned into the skin of her thigh, screaming and yes, begging now for the torment to be over.

But not once did she ask him to betray Thorin. She screamed, she howled, she sobbed, but still she protected her husband. And Bolg was not pleased with the results his attentions were having. He wanted her broken completely in order to break the Dwarf and she wasn't cooperating.

She was beaten, and Dwalin clearly heard the snapping of bones in the cavern as they broke her leg, but still he said nothing. He was bleeding inside, knowing that he could stop this and unable to say the words that would. He could no more betray Thorin than he could fly. 

Then the unthinkable happened.

She broke. She screamed for Thorin, begging him to help her, to make the pain stop. And it nearly broke Dwalin when Bolg stopped still, watching her with cold calculation on his face before turning to the Dwarf. “She is his,” he snarled. “You did well to conceal it, Dwarf. And she is broken. How long do you think she will last before she tells me everything?”

Dwalin shook his head. He couldn't speak. Breaking her had torn at him, but he would never let this thing know it. Still, he had to help her. “Let me tend her. She'll die if you don't. And then she's useless to you.” He didn't mean that as it sounded, of course. He just wanted to help her.

Bolg regarded him for a moment before he drew a wicked looking knife from his belt. Swiftly he drew her up, holding her close, and Dwalin thought for a moment he would kill her, but no. 

Instead, he ripped the front of her tattered tunic and laid the blade against her, drawing a design in her flesh. She had no more screams; the only sound in the cavern now was her harsh breathing and the Orc's snarl as he flung her away. “Untie him and put her back with him. He won't try to flee without her.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An escape is made... sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deals with some sensitive issues, such as suicide/assisted suicide, etc. If this squicks you or triggers you, give it a pass please. You've been warned.

Dwalin held her as she wept. Her back was a mess of shredded skin, her chest bleeding from the cut of a skilled knife, and her left leg was bent at an impossible angle. He couldn't touch her without causing her more pain, but she needed the comfort of a touch just the same. And he talked to her, trying to ease her mind. She would be near sick at the thought of betraying Thorin. It hadn't been her fault, and he tried to make her see that. Even the strongest being would break under torture if it went on long enough. 

“It's all right, Inara,” he murmured as he held her to him. “You'll be all right. We'll get out of here.”

“You know the truth, Dwalin,” she rasped. “I can't travel. I can barely breathe.” She knew what she was asking of him and suddenly she was certain he wouldn't do it. “You have to go. Warn Thorin. He has to know what waits for him.”

“I'm not leaving you.” He left no room for argument. He still had the knife in his belt and drew it quickly, searching the bones for a weak spot, desperately seeking an exit.

Suddenly he placed the blade against what seemed a random spot, but he was able to force the bones apart enough to shatter them. There was a hole large enough for them to get out if he could carry her. “We're leaving.” He quickly dispatched the guards left in the cavern, silent and deadly; a far cry from the warrior he usually was. Then he would have called his defiance as he fought; now it was a matter of life and death for him to kill them swiftly and silently. Then he returned for her, lifting her easily and regretting having to cause her more pain. “I'm sorry,” he whispered against her hair. 

She merely clung to him. She was weak, and she knew it was a losing battle for him to take her along. He'd never escape, burdened with her. And she couldn't walk. 

He got her out of the cave and they managed to get into the trees before he put her down carefully. “They won't look for us here, not at first,” he explained as she regarded him steadily. “We're still too close. They'll think we're too desperate to stop yet.”

“Dwalin, be reasonable,” she said softly. “You can't carry me all the way to Erebor. They'd catch us within a day.” She had to make him see. “You have to go. Go to Thorin. Warn him.”

“If I leave you here, they'll find you.” Dwalin wasn't going to leave her. He'd find a way. He would leave no one to face Orcs alone, and certainly not her. “They'll kill you, Inara.” Simple words, stark and harsh in their truth. “I was supposed to keep you safe.” Guilt rolled off him in waves and she sighed heavily.

“Your first responsibility, Dwalin, is to Thorin.” Her voice was firm, but soft. She could feel the life leaving her, one scarlet droplet at a time. “You did your best. There were simply too many of them.” She took another deep breath. “I'm not helpless. I should have been able to protect myself. You bear no guilt.” She had to get him to leave. Thorin MUST be warned. 

He watched her for several long moments, obviously thinking hard. She knew the moment his decision had been made; the slump of his wide shoulders, the grief in his face, they said all too well he knew she was right. Suddenly he shifted and brought out the dagger again. 

His face was set and drawn, tight with grief and rage. “It's all I can offer, Inara.” He took a deep breath. “If they find you, they'll torture you more. Bolg will see that you don't die. He wants Thorin too badly and he knows you're his. I'll do this for you, to spare you that.”

She held his gaze as she took the wicked-looking thing from him. “No, Dwalin. I might recover, given enough time. But if they come on me before then, I will use it. I promise.” Her voice was soft and sure. “I won't let them have me again, Dwalin. No fear on that score.” Her pain was ebbing now and she was afraid; but she wouldn't let him see that fear. He'd insist on staying until it was over and she couldn't have that. He had to escape. “Tell him... my last thoughts are of him.” It was time to stop pretending. She was going to die, whether by her own hand or the Orcs. 

There was no more time and he knew it. He rose then and walked away, knowing as he did so that he was leaving her to die alone. But he would do as she had asked. He would warn Thorin, make sure he understood what was waiting in the darkness for him. And he would deliver her message. 

He stopped a few yards away and watched her for a moment more. She was still, too still. Then, with a final bow to her, he left her there. He had to get to Thorin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin reports to Thorin...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to: SerenLyall for all her research into the timeline. Ithil-Valon for characterization. Lindarielwen from Council of Elrond for a sounding board. And PirateColey for encouragement and Dwarf drooling at all hours of the day and night. And ALL OF YOU ladies for brainstorming, tweaking, brainstorming more, and helping me to finally get it right! You guys ROCK!

Part Four

It took him four days to reach aid.

Outriders from Laketown were on the banks of the River Running, the Celduin, when he saw them and flagged them down. The head of the troop was known to him and he wasted no time. “Dalor!” he called stridently. “Down the track, about two days.” By horseback, it would be. His voice caught in his throat. “Inara was... was wounded, near to death. See if you can retrieve her, please.” He knew there would be talk, that it would be said he abandoned her, but he would deal with that later. “And I need to get to the mountain. Quickly.”

Dalor held his hand down. “Come. Bayon, go. Find her. Bring her home.” From the sounds of things, they'd be returning a body; but she had risked much, along with the Dwarves, to protect his city. He owed her at least this much. And with his troop moving out, he helped the Dwarf onto his mount and turned for the Lonely Mountain. 

It took some time, but soon enough they were at the great Gates of Erebor and Dwalin swung down, offering the Man hospitality as was the custom. Then, with a heavy heart and a feeling that he was going to his death, he went to find Thorin.

Thorin met him in the first hall, his face impassive but his eyes dark with worry. And that worry deepened to something approaching fear when he realized Inara was missing.

Dwalin took a deep breath. “Not here,” he said simply. They found the first empty room at hand and Dwalin closed the door behind them. He knew what it would do to Thorin when he was told, and he wanted no witnesses to his King's – his FRIEND'S first stab of grief. Then he waited, uncertain of how to proceed but knowing he must. Finally he decided on simplicity. His King was waiting for a report, so he'd give it. And perhaps the formality would make this easier. He doubted it.

He told Thorin everything, from the decision to return home to leaving her near the Orcs' cavern. He told his friend why he had left her, that it had been her decision as much as his. And finally, he told Thorin of the gift of his knife. “She said to tell you her last thoughts were of you,” he finished softly.

Thorin made no sound at first. He sank to his knees, only his eyes betraying his grief and horror. Then he gave one cry, lost, angry and despairing, her name keened to the heavens as though it might bring her back to him. He became quiet then, silent as the grave though tears coursed down his face. He made no sound for several long minutes. Then he rose, stark fury replacing the grief and faced down his friend. “You left her there to die,” he snarled, and Dwalin said nothing. “You left her behind.”

“There was no choice if we were to warn you,” Dwalin finally replied. The rage in Thorin's face gave him pause; he hadn't seen it since the days before the quest, the days after the dragon had come. It promised death. 

“You should have found a way.” Harsh words, stark in their simplicity and huge in their anger. “You left her to die alone!”

“What should I have done, then?” Dwalin snapped back, his own guilt finally forcing him to speak. “She couldn't travel, Thorin. Her leg was broken and she'd been stripped to the bone by the lash. She was bleeding to death. And she so much as ORDERED me back to you. What would you have had me do? Kill her myself?”

“YES!” Thorin's grief was palpable in the silence, though his fury hadn't abated either. “If they found her, if she hadn't time to use your knife – what do you think they will do to her? They'll make her live. And the torture will never stop.”

Dwalin recoiled as if he'd been struck. “You don't know what you're saying,” he responded once the first shock had softened. “I was going to do it. She took the knife from me, sent me away.” His voice softened again. “She was dead before I left the glade,” he said slowly. “She was still, too still. My final sight of her – she was gone.”

All the fight went out of Thorin in a rush. If Dwalin said she was gone, then she had been. There was no more hope, ho hope of finding her in some Orc den somewhere, broken but alive. No hope of hearing her laughter, seeing her smile and knowing it was for him and him alone. No hope of holding her in the night, of holding her at all. No hope.

“Dalor's men are looking for her. I sent them to bring her home.” It was the only thing Dwalin could offer his friend, and he knew it wasn't enough. 

Thorin was lost in his grief and his anger. He heard the words, but they meant little to him. Inara was gone, and Dwalin hadn't helped her. He hadn't saved her. And that, he couldn't forgive. “Get out,” he rasped. “Get out of my sight.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimmer of hope?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to: SerenLyall for all her research into the timeline. Ithil-Valon for characterization. Lindarielwen from Council of Elrond for a sounding board. And PirateColey for encouragement and Dwarf drooling at all hours of the day and night. And ALL OF YOU ladies for brainstorming, tweaking, brainstorming more, and helping me to finally get it right! You guys ROCK!

Dwalin sat in his room. He should be training, but he didn't care. He should have done it, he told himself angrily. He should have taken her life. He should have spared her those final minutes, taken that pain away from her. Taken away the possibility that she could have been retaken by Bolg.

She hadn't let him. Her hands had taken the knife from him, though it hadn't been much of a struggle. He could deny her nothing, not as Thorin's wife, not as her friend. He had obeyed her orders as he would have Thorin's, though not without question. It still tore at his heart. The guilt was HUGE within him.

And Thorin's rage, his pain, they were beyond measure. He couldn't blame his King for his anger. He had lost everything dear to him. He wanted vengeance and had no hint of where to strike. Bolg had made no overt move toward Erebor and until he did, there was no way to track him.

Scouts had been sent out with orders to take every measure to avoid capture. None of them had returned as yet, but he reminded himself that it had only been a few days. And Bayon had not returned, either. That spoke of trouble of some sort and he hoped he had not sent those Men to their deaths as well.

There was a tap at his door and he growled, but whoever it was didn't go away. He hauled it open to find a younger Dwarf waiting for him. “There's a Man at the Gate, and he wants to speak with you,” he said apologetically. “I told him we were mourning and he said it couldn't wait. He's insistent, sir.”

Dwalin rose. He had a bad feeling that he knew who it was.

He was right. Bayon had come to find him and his unease increased. “What is it?” he rumbled. 

“We searched the area all around the glade, but we found nothing,” the Man said simply. “Well... not exactly nothing. There was a lot of blood, probably where she lay. And this.” He held out the knife Dwalin had left with her and he felt his heart sink even further. It was coated in blood but some of it was the thick black blood of Orcs. “There was no sign of her body. We searched for two whole days, Master Dwalin. She wasn't there.”

“Anything else?” Dwalin almost couldn't breathe. His guilt was enormous. Had he left her alive to be taken by Bolg? He had been so sure she would finish herself to avoid it.

“Only that there were Orc tracks nearby, and wargs. And there was a cave, but it was empty. Blood, soaked into the dirt, but no sign of anyone near it.” Bayon watched Dwalin closely. “There was a lot of blood in that place. No one could lose so much, and live.”

If anyone could, it would have been her. But had she managed to use the knife before the Orcs found her? He had to know. “Thank you, Bayon. Thorin would thank you as well, were he able.” 

The Man nodded and left and Dwalin began thinking hard. 

He needed to see Thorin. He knew his King was beyond fury at him but he had to see his friend, see if he thought the same way. Someone had to go find Inara, whether she lived or not. If she did, they had to save her. If she didn't, then she needed a decent burial and Thorin would be able to say goodbye.

But his first sight of his King was a shock.

Thorin was packing.

“I thought I told you to leave me,” he said simply, but the anger in his voice hadn't cooled. “What do you want?”

“Where do you think you're going?” Dwalin knew, but he also knew that Thorin couldn't be allowed to risk himself like this. “If you go after him, he'll kill you. And then where would WE be?”

“Fili is next in line,” Thorin snarled back. “And I will have vengeance for what he has taken from me.” 

The sheer venom in his voice almost made Dwalin step back but he controlled the urge. He needed to do something and he certainly wasn't going to let Thorin go out after that thing. “Thorin. Stop.”

“Do not stop me.” Ice and steel were in his voice, yet Dwalin didn't pause. “I'm going.”

“You're not.” Dwalin stood firm. “Fili is a lad yet. And he isn't you. He didn't hold us together after the Dragon came. He didn't encourage us when we needed it. He didn't make a home for us in Ered Luin. You are responsible for ALL your people, Thorin, not just your wife. Vengeance will only bring you death.”

“And you would go in my place.” The sneer was perfectly audible and Thorin turned to face him finally, rage and hatred in his eyes. “You let them torture her, you left her to die alone. Why should I send you to find her? You would fail me again.”

“Because you know I'm right.” Thorin's words hurt him deeply but he'd never show it, not now. “Stay here. Let me do this for you. Let me make things right.” 

“You can't.” The utter finality in his King's voice was a bitter blow to his heart. No longer could he call this Dwarf friend, not with this between them. It didn't matter that Dwalin hated himself for all the things Thorin said, for all that had happened. No, Thorin hated him as well and that couldn't be borne. 

The one thing Thorin understood was vengeance. All those long years, waiting for the right time to take back their home, all those long years he had waited, his need for revenge growing inside him. And yet, he knew responsibility as well, and it was that and that alone that stopped him in his tracks.

Dwalin was right. But the warrior had failed him, failed to protect Inara, failed to bring her home at the last. It wasn't to be endured. “Go,” he snarled. “But if you fail me again, Dwalin, son of Fundin, there will be no welcome for you here. _Do not come back without her.”_ That she was dead no longer mattered to him. He wanted proof, or he wanted her. Those were the only two resolutions he would accept.

Dwalin gave him the respect he was due and left. Now he would finally be able to do something to atone for his mistake. 

He had not mentioned to Thorin the possibility that she was still alive. No, that he would keep to himself until it was proven true. He had been certain when he left her that she was gone; had he been wrong? The thought pained him.

He headed for the stable. He'd lived rough before; he'd take what little with him he needed. Food could be found, he had his fur to stay warm with. His weapons would be all he would need.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin goes scouting and Thorin grieves...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch out for the feels...

Part Six

Fili and Kili fell in step with Dwalin before he reached the stables. “We're going with you,” Fili began.

“Yes. You need us.”

Dwalin stopped in his tracks and glared at them. “None of that nonsense,'' he growled. “You're not going.”

“Yes, we are.” Fili stopped Dwalin with a hand to his chest, and Kili stepped up beside him. “She's our aunt, if nothing else. She's Uncle's wife, which makes her our Queen. Or consort. Or whatever.”

Kili growled and Dwalin blinked. “And Balin hasn't told us we're not responsible for her any more. He told us to keep her safe. We should have been with you to start with.”

“We thought it safe enough, Thorin and I,” Balin said as he came forward as well. “We thought it safe enough since we had seen no Orcs in months. We were wrong.” He regarded his brother seriously. “And they are quite correct, Dwalin. I have not absolved them of their responsibility. Therefor, they are going with you.”

“And what does Thorin say about this?” Dwalin couldn't take them along. He had failed to protect Inara, he would surely fail to protect them as well. And Thorin would lose all interest in life if he lost his nephews as well. He was close enough to that edge now. Only the rage was sustaining him.

“Thorin would agree, were he in his right mind,” Balin said patiently. “Kili knows how to track, almost as well as she does. She taught him. And another hand could mean the difference between life and death, if things go ill.” He shook his head. “Thorin lets his fury control him, such as he hasn't done for ages. His need for vengeance consumes him. We few can keep him from the abyss, and we will do so.”

“And when he finds out?” Dwalin had no illusions. Thorin knew nothing of this plan. He would have forbidden it completely. “You won't like the result.”

“I have handled Thorin Oakenshield for many long years, brother,” was the calm reply. “I can handle this. Go. Find her. Bring her home.”

Dwalin nodded in defeat. Nonetheless a small hope had begun to grow in him. If Kili was half the tracker she was, they would find her. It was one small thing, but it was a start.

They rode out together, hoping to be gone before Thorin found them out. Dwalin led them toward where he had last seen her. It would be at least three days before they came to the glade, and he was suddenly certain Bolg would be upon them before then. He didn't know why; but it was a gut feeling that he'd listen to. 

(Thorin's Rooms)

Thorin was alone, and for that reason, he thought he could grieve in peace. His rage was still there, but at the moment his sense of loss overshadowed it. 

He wept. Alone, in the privacy of his bedchamber, he wept for her loss. He wept for the feel of her in his arms, her ready smile that was only for him, even for her calling him an idiot when the situation warranted. Her steady companionship that was worth more to him even than her touch in the night. She had always been THERE, since the first time he saw her. He wept for the ache in his heart, an ache that would never lessen, never end. 

And when the storm passed, he thought of her. Memories of their time together. Memories of when he had realized he loved her, and been so overwhelmed when he realized she loved him in return. Of when he had been so wrong and sent her away. And most of all, when she had remained by his side though he seemed wounded unto death. Not once had she left him that she hadn't been forced to. She had held his hand, tried to soothe his brow, done everything she could to let him know she was there and would never leave him again. That was a priceless gift to him, her steady, undying love, and now he would never feel it again.

And it was Dwalin's fault.

Some part of him deep inside realized he was being unreasonable, but he didn't care. The rage built up in him again and he snarled his fury to the heavens. Dwalin had left her to die alone. He had not stopped the torture when it began. He had let Bolg abuse her, break her, and done nothing. 

He had done nothing. He hadn't even given her a quick death when he knew they might find her alive. Never mind that Inara wouldn't have let her friend do something so horrible. He should have found a way. Leaving her that knife... it wasn't enough. She might not have had time to use it.

No. Dwalin had been sure she was dead before he left her. But why should he believe that when Dwalin had failed so badly? He couldn't get his head straight. He needed her, and she wasn't there. And so the cycle began anew. Tears and rage tore at him until he could stand them no more.

He slept.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin searches for Inara, and Thorin is still being Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my research team and the hive mind...

Part Seven

(The Wild, north of Mirkwood)

Dwalin led them into the little glade and dismounted, going quickly to where she had lain. Yes, the ground was disturbed, and blood still remained visible, though it was fading with each dewfall. It put more pain in his heart but he'd never let it be seen. “This is where I left her.”

Kíli knelt next to the patch and looked carefully. “Yes, she was here, but so was something else.” He rose and went a short way to the north, watching the ground. “Here, and here. Orc footprints. Big ones. And Wargs.” He stopped before going into the woods. “But no human ones. If she left here – and she had to have, she's not here – if she left here, something carried her.”

Fíli was watching both of them. “Then the Orcs took her.” His words were flat, emotionless. He knew what it would have meant for them to get hold of her again, if she had been alive. And the knife, Dwalin's long dagger, it had held both human and Orc blood. Had she defended herself? Or had she used it as intended and ended her own life? If so, where was her body? 

Dwalin's thoughts mirrored his, with one more possibility. He knew that Orcs ate human flesh, sometimes. The thought sickened him. Had they simply carried her off to their larder? No, he didn't think so. Even dead, she was of use against Thorin. And Bolg would know it. He would know that Thorin would stop at NOTHING to get her back, dead or alive.

Kíli was considering. He had no way to tell if she had been living or dead when she was taken from here; no tracker could. “The only thing for it is to track them to their den,” he said slowly. The prospect was daunting, to say the least. That many Orcs, with Bolg leading them, would be deadly. They would have a hard time of it getting her out, if they could. If she was still alive. 

They had to try. They had to at least know if she was alive. He rose and walked a short distance into the trees, his bow in hand and ready. “They're not far,” he said evenly. The tracks were clear. “And they're not worried about being followed. There's been no effort to cover their path.” He gestured at the ground. Then something else caught his eye and he knelt again, a little farther toward the Orcs' unknown destination, and his face blanched.

“Kíli? Kíli! What is it?” Fíli was next to him in a flash, looking down as well. 

Dwalin loosed the ponies. It was clear they would be on foot, headed into the forest itself. Then he joined them to find out why they were disturbed. There was blood on the leaves, and while not fresh, it wasn't completely dried. And it wasn't Orc blood.

Inara had been alive when they took her.

(Erebor)

Thorin was up and moving. He had lain abed long enough, and he needed to DO something. Inara was gone. Dwalin had gone to bring her back.

His words to Dwalin had been cruel and undeserved, but he didn't care. Dwalin had left her to die alone in the forest after being tortured. He couldn't forgive it. 

“Thorin, good, you're awake.” Balin was waiting for him and he stifled a groan. “There are a few things you should deal with.”

“The only thing I am going to deal with, Balin, is Bolg,” he said firmly. “He took what was mine. He tortured Inara. He is responsible for her death.” 

Balin regarded him steadily. “Dwalin is looking for her. He will bring her home. Patience, Thorin.”

“I have none.” He would find this Orc and he would teach him of Dwarven vengeance. Azog had learned; his spawn would as well. “I am going, Balin. Do not stop me.” That tone allowed no argument. 

“You cannot go.” Balin was firm. “There is no one to take the burden of leadership from you. You must remain for your people.”

Thorin stopped still. “No one?” he questioned quietly, his anger growing still greater. “And where are Fíli and Kíli? They are my heirs. Let them learn.” _They'll need to know,_ was the unspoken conclusion.

“They are gone.” Suddenly Balin wasn't certain about this plan. If Thorin knew where they were, he would become even more determined. “They went with Dwalin. Kíli knows how to track. And where he goes, so does Fíli.”

“They went with Dwalin?” One sweep of Thorin's arm cleared the tabletop as his fury found expression. “How could you allow such a thing? He cannot be trusted to bring them back alive, Balin! He failed to protect Inara, how could he protect them? They are still too young. He can't protect them.”

“I think you do him a disservice, but I will say no more on it.” Balin keenly felt the need in his King, the need to find something, anything, anyone to blame for this tragedy. “Nonetheless, they are with him. And they will return, Thorin. They will bring her home.”

“Leave me.” Thorin was beyond fury. His nephews, his heirs, the boys he thought of as his sons, they were gone. Gone with the one who had let Inara die. It wasn't acceptable. “Go.”

He would go to the arena. There were things there he could destroy without harm to anyone. He was in a VERY destructive mood now. And perhaps he would put a face on many of those things before he reduced them to kindling.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and the lads catch up with Bolg... and Thorin is still Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all those still sticking with this story! 
> 
> And many, many thanks to the hive... I love ye, ladies...

Part Eight

(The Wild)

Kíli followed the trail with single-minded intensity. Inara was dear to him, as his aunt and his friend, and he would find her. 

He hadn't forgotten how she sent Fíli ahead to warn Thorin that the Orcs were marching on the mountain. But he had accepted that she had been right. One of them had to go, and Fíli was the eldest heir. It just hadn't seemed right at the time, since he and Fíli were inseparable. But then she had stayed with him, helping him to slow the onrushing army, helping him to stay alive, helping him not to lose heart when it seemed they wouldn't be able to reach help before the Orcs took them.

The others trailed behind him, weapons ready in case of an ambush. His own blade was in hand, of course, but as focused as he was on the trail, he'd likely be more surprised than ready if they were attacked. Still, he wouldn't be taken without a fight.

Suddenly he stopped. He held up a hand so the others would remain quiet; there were voices in the trees ahead. “Why do you still protect him?” a rough, harsh voice demanded. “No one will save you.”

There was a soft response, but they couldn't hear it clearly. The tone of it, however, tore at them. It was full of pain and despair. 

A rumble of cruel laughter came to them where they hid and it took everything they had to keep silent. “He tried to kill you, I-na-ra. He offered you death, and you didn't accept. Why? You won't escape me. And your beloved Thorin will not come for you. There is nothing for you but pain and torment.”

“He will come,” was the rejoinder. “He would never leave me in your hands.” Her voice had a little more life now, for all it was soft and pain-filled. It seemed, from the sound of things, that Bolg had continued his torture of her. She sounded at death's door.

“But he won't.” There was a rustle of parchment and then a soft intake of breath. “You see? Even Thorin has abandoned you. I sent him a message calling him out, told him that I had you, that I had hurt you, that you had broken under my hand, and he replied that he would not come. He did not want a broken Orc plaything. You can see his seal. So why do you still protect him?”

A stifled sob came to them and to a one, they closed their eyes against the despair in that sound. Bolg continued, his cruelty now beyond words. “You should have chosen death,” he said simply. “It amuses me to keep you alive. And you will beg for death before I grant it. You should have chosen it from Dwalin's hand. It would have been quick.”

Kíli whipped his head around to stare at Dwalin, as did Fíli. Their friend had been ready to kill her? Their aunt, Thorin's wife, his FRIEND? He would have killed her? Shock kept them silent, now. To say they didn't understand would be a massive understatement. Kíli was ready to kill him and Fíli didn't look far behind. 

They drew away a short distance where they were certain they wouldn't be overheard. Yet no word was spoken. Fíli and Kíli regarded him with consternation. Finally Fíli spoke. “Is that why you were certain she was dead?” he asked angrily. “Because you tried to kill her?”

“No!” The denial was vehement, though kept soft so they wouldn't be discovered. “I offered her a way out,” he said simply. “A way to avoid more torture. She chose to live instead.” His words now were grim and angry as well. “She took the dagger from me. Promised to use it if they found her. They must not have given her time.” Still, she had fought. There was Orc blood on the blade as well as her own. 

The brothers watched him for a moment more before turning to each other. Nothing was spoken, but they seemed to come to some sort of decision nonetheless. “That's why Uncle was so angry with you,” Fíli said simply. “He knew.”

How to explain it so they would understand? “Aye, he knew.” These two were young, they hadn't seen much of the world. The quest itself had been fraught with danger, and yet they still seemed innocent to the ways of war. “Tis sometimes the only way. If you are broken, if you have no hope, if you can still be used as a source of information – then sometimes it is the only way.”

“There is ALWAYS a way,” Kíli snarled. “You just have to find it. And now she's with THEM and being hurt more.” He visibly took hold of his temper. “We need to get her away from them.”

Fíli spoke as well, watching Dwalin as he did so. “It's killing her to think Thorin doesn't care. We have to do something.”

“If we rush in, we'll all die, even her,” Dwalin replied evenly. “We need to find a way to bring her out without being seen.” He held their eyes with his own, letting them see what this was costing him as well. “We need to wait.”

(Erebor)

Thorin trained. He trained until his muscles, strong from years in the forge, years wielding axe and sword, were quivering with exhaustion. And still, all he felt was rage.

Rage that Inara was gone from him. Rage that he had essentially sent her to her death by asking her to leave the mountain again. Rage that Dwalin had not only failed to protect her, to save her, he had failed to take her life when it became necessary. No one should be left to the Orcs' tender mercies. No one.

Those who came upon him in the arena left quickly. Their King was frightening in his intensity, his single-minded destruction. And yet, Balin continued to look on, his face full of sorrow at the display. 

Thorin was, if anything, more angry than he had been in years. Since the dragon had come and taken their home, since Azog had killed his grandfather. Since the Battle of Five Armies that had nearly taken his life. And since Inara had become a part of it.

She seemed to have been a buffer against this behavior, against his fury. When all had gone wrong before, when he had sent her away, there had been none of this. When he had fought with Razhnok, after her return, his actions had been more considered, more careful. Not so with these. He was fighting with his emotions, not his mind. 

He was trying to kill his demons and it wasn't working.

Finally he stopped, heaving for breath and forced to consider that perhaps he wasn't in the best condition to take on Bolg. He was older. Razhnok should have taught him that if nothing else. He still had strength, he still had endurance – but perhaps not as much.

He went back to his rooms, intending to change and maybe clean up a bit, and the guard captain met him just outside the door. “The scouts are beginning to return,” he said simply. “They've found nothing, no trace of Orcs. No trace of anything threatening.”

“There has to be something.” Thorin grew thoughtful. “Are they all back?”

“No. Those sent southwest haven't returned yet.”

Then southwest would be the direction. All had been ordered to travel three days and return. It had been six. They should have been back today. If, by morning, they hadn't returned, he would take a patrol in that direction.

And Mahal help anyone who tried to stop him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things begin to happen. Dwalin has a plan, and Thorin takes action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the hive.

Part Nine

(The Wild)

They had trailed Bolg's band for days. Not once had they seen an opening to rescue Inara, and more than once they had overheard more of Bolg's calculated cruelty. 

They could do nothing to prevent it while he slowly convinced her that those who loved her had abandoned her. That Dwalin had sought to end her life, not from necessity, but from a desire to end her association with Thorin. That Thorin had sent him with her for just that purpose. That she was no longer wanted in Erebor.

Through it all, she was silent. She no longer responded to the Orc's taunts, and the only way the followers knew she still lived was that one of them forced food into her each night. That, and Bolg's running litany of lies. And the screams torn from her when he decided she'd been quiet long enough.

They were near Erebor, now. The Orcs had been traveling steadily northward, a bit east of true north, on what appeared to be a straight line for the mountain. Perhaps there was still hope.

“If one of us were to go around them, get to Thorin, maybe we could get her back that way,” Kíli hissed as they made their careful camp that night. 

“We'd never make it on time, going around on foot,” Fíli disagreed. “There would be extra ground to cover.”

Dwalin let them talk. They had good ideas, but they were still so, so inexperienced. And the sounds that came from Bolg's camp sometimes, they horrified the lads, made them itch to bury Dwarvish iron in Orc skulls. They had learned patience; but not enough.

Those sounds hurt him, too. The only thing that saved the lot of them was that he had more experience dealing with these situations and he was able to stop them from rushing out to help her. 

But the worst was the night Bolg brought something to show her. The three were watching through the trees again, trying to discover a way to get her out, when he held it up and they saw her face blanch. “He will never come for you now, human,” Bolg spat as he threw it at her. “Your faith is misplaced. Not only did he renounce you at the end, he is dead. And there is your proof.”

She struggled to sit up long enough to examine the object and her face went from pale to white. It fell from fingers slack from grief as she screamed again, a piercing, heart-wrenching cry of agony. She knew that braid, knew it intimately. That it was Thorin's was never in doubt, not to her. Then she fell back, clutching it, holding it close to her heart as she sobbed.

Dwalin had to physically restrain Fíli, who in turn grabbed his brother and slapped a hand over his mouth.

They drew away again, Dwalin holding each lad by the arm until he was sure they wouldn't go running back to her side. “I don't believe it,” he said firmly. “And if we go charging in there right now, all we'll do is die.” He thought he had their attention finally, but his words would hurt them. “We have to wait. If Thorin IS dead, we can't help him. If he isn't, he'll be coming. There's only so long he'll let himself be kept from looking for her. He'll come. And we have to make sure he doesn't come to his death.”

Both of them looked at him askance, distrust oozing from every pore. How could he be so calm? Inara was dying by inches. Thorin might be dead as well. How could he not be moved by her grief? Her voice was grating on their nerves, serving only to make them want to go to her side. Those sounds were something that should be made by a wounded animal, not her.

Finally Fíli saw something in Dwalin's eyes and it gave him a little reassurance. “What did you have in mind?” he asked slowly.

Kíli watched him too. What Fíli had seen, he now caught as well. And for the first time since finding her, he thought maybe they had a chance to help her. 

Dwalin had a plan.

(Erebor)

Thorin was in the map room when Balin found him. There was movement everywhere; armed and armored Dwarves moved about as Thorin and one of the commanders conversed in low tones over the table. 

That was encouraging, Balin thought quickly. At least it looked as though he'd forgone the idea of leaving alone. 

Thorin beckoned him over and Balin went, trying to get a glimpse into his eyes. Those would tell him what he needed to know, whether or not Thorin had recovered his senses. But when Thorin spoke, he had all his answers.

“We must move, and quickly,” he said simply as he drew Balin to the table as well. “The southern scouts have returned. Most of them.” It hadn't escaped him that some had fallen to the Orcs, and he would find justice for them as well. Justice, not vengeance.

Long hours in the night had finally cleared his mind. He had spoken to Inara of vengeance, very early in their companionship. He had told her what it would cost, and in the small hours before dawn, he had remembered those words. Had she recalled them to him, from where she waited for him? He didn't know. But he would heed them.

“How bad is it?” Balin was immediately every inch the advisor once more. Thorin had changed overnight, and he welcomed the change. Sorrow still darkened his eyes, anger still lurked in them, but it was being focused now. It no longer controlled him. 

“Bad enough.” Thorin gestured to the maps. “Orcs are here and here, say the scouts. And with one of those bands is Bolg.” The name was a snarl and he visibly controlled himself once more. “We just need to know which one. He commands these Orcs. With him gone, they will be no threat.”

“Indeed.” Balin looked things over with a practiced eye. “If I were to make a guess, I would say – here.” He pointed to the southernmost marker. “If he is as cruel as Azog, he won't risk himself until he's sure you're near. Especially since he took Inara. He will know you are coming, and he will know your fury will be great. He won't risk himself until he can kill you.”

“That was my thought as well.” Thorin cast another glance over the map. “So we will give him a golden opportunity.” He saw the concern in Balin's eyes and sighed. “I'm not going to give them what they want, Balin. I'm not going to deliver myself to them. But I will take a troop south to engage them. They cannot be allowed to threaten our home itself, not without answer.”

Balin nodded again. “A sound plan. IF you intend on taking sufficient troops.” He knew he wouldn't be among them; Thorin had charged him already with the running of the mountain. He raised a brow.

“Bofur will come, as will Bifur and Bombur. Oin will remain at the rear with the healers. Gloín, Ori, Nori, and Dori will come. Dwalin and the lads are behind them.” Thorin regarded his friend with his own raised eyebrow. “The fight will come to him on two fronts. He cannot hold, not with determined Dwarves at every turn.”

“Well thought out,” Balin returned quietly. He wouldn't say anything about Thorin's anger with Dwalin. It hadn't been forgotten; there was a dangerous glint in his eye when he spoke of the big warrior. “But it seems this plan hinges on Dwalin and the lads being behind them. What if they've been taken?” He didn't want to prick Thorin any further, but it needed to be said. His friend, his King, needed to know what he was walking into. What could possibly go wrong.

“Then we will free them, or avenge them. As we will avenge Inara's death. These Orcs will not leave here alive.” 

Balin was silent a moment longer. There was purpose behind the rage, now, and that made a huge difference. “It seems you've thought of everything,” he said slowly. “Yet I would counsel one more thing, Thorin. Do not take the fight to Bolg yourself. Let him come to you. Use that advantage.”

“I intend to use every advantage I can find, my friend, even Dwalin if I must.” No, his anger hadn't cooled. “But I made a vow that Bolg would die and I intend to honor that vow. He took Inara from me and I WILL kill him for it.”

He raised his head and nodded to the assembled soldiers. “It's time.” He grasped Balin's shoulder for a moment, letting the gesture speak the words he couldn't say. “We will survive, Balin. And we will WIN.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't quite know how to describe this one... other than tense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the Hive... for moral support and constant encouragement. I love ye, m'darlins...

(The Wild)

Dwalin spoke carefully, his voice low. It was important that these two understand what was at stake if they failed. They would all be taken and tortured. Bolg was too intent on getting to Thorin to kill them outright, especially if he realized who he had in his grasp.

Inara was no longer useful to him. Since Bolg had given her the braid, she was interested in nothing. She didn't eat, she didn't even move unless someone did it for her. She was dead weight and Dwalin was afraid she would never be whole again. It was a wonder the Orc hadn't cut his losses and killed her already.

“All right. There are outriders on each flank, warg riders. If we can eliminate them, it takes some of the danger. Then we draw the others out, one at a time if necessary.” Dwalin fixed both of them under his best arena stare. “We will have to fight alone. Three sides, three of us. We can't afford to waste time worrying over the others. We have to be stealthy and we have to be quick.” Quick wasn't a problem with them, he thought. They could be like smoke when they wished. “Do NOT take on more than one at a time if you can help it. They will be confused enough, but don't take chances. Kill one, fall back. Meet behind them, out of range. They mustn't see us; it's important that they think there are many more of us than there are.”

“What if one of us is taken?” Fili's voice was soft. 

“Then it is over.” Dwalin knew it was harsh, but he had to make them understand what was in store for any prisoners. “Bolg will torture you until you tell him the truth, and then still more. If he finds our true numbers, we are finished.”

“He won't catch us.” Kili was firm, and shared a look with Fili. 

“Kili, take the right flank, Fili the left. Let's go. Remember. Kill one, fall back. ”

(Thorin)

Thorin led his troops southwest from the mountain for two days without seeing a single sign of trouble and began to be uneasy. Surely Bolg wouldn't be hiding his presence, not now. Especially since Thorin had left the safety of the mountain. No, he would be lurking somewhere near. He doubled the guard at night, but still it was quiet. 

The waiting was wearing on everyone's nerves. His troops were on edge, and that wasn't good. They were beginning to see Orcs in every shadow. Only those of his Company seemed to be unaffected by the general air of tension and they kept near him. 

The third night was the worst. The sentries were jumpy and Thorin himself was tense. The feeling of imminent danger was strong. And still they had seen no sign of the enemy. 

Bofur had gone a short way past the sentries to scout, as had Gloín. And both cried out as the wargs leapt from the trees at them.

The camp immediately came to life. To a one, the Dwarves reacted with speed and skill and those two wargs were dispatched quickly. Thorin took a quick count and was heartened to see he had lost no one yet. Then he realized what the enemy truly intended when howls split the night around them. “Stay together!” he roared. “They're trying to flank us!”

Roars of rage went up from the Dwarves as they closed ranks against the now visible and angry enemy. More wargs closed in, only to be quickly dealt with. “Regroup!” he commanded. There would be more wargs, this time with riders. He had seen this before. Infantry stood little chance against cavalry of any sort unless they were very, very careful. “Steady...”

Orcs exploded from the trees from all sides and Dwarven spears flew through the air as well as the archers taking aim. Pikemen stood at the edges of the formation and attempted to catch any the others had missed. 

To say it was a rout was putting it mildly. Orcs fled before them, breaking and running when faced with a foe that fought back. Thorin watched as they retreated, calling to his people to return. “Stand your ground! Terli, take a patrol, hunt them down. The rest break camp. We're moving on.” He couldn't explain his sense of urgency, just that it was there. 

Bofur shouted from nearby and Thorin went to him. “One of the scouts,” Bofur said simply as he showed Thorin the body. He had been hacked and nearly beheaded, but still held his sword. He had fought to the last and Thorin lowered his head for a moment in respect. 

“His name was Garlin,” Bofur said simply. 

“He will be remembered properly, Bofur, I promise you that.” Inside, Thorin's rage grew again. So much death, so much hate, and how many more had to die before that monster was dealt with? He tamped it down, letting it smolder within him. 

He took a closer look. Most of Garlin's dark hair had been lopped off and he growled as he knelt beside the body. It was a desecration, a dishonoring of the dead and he felt it keenly. Slowly he rose, holding that fire inside, and nodded to Bofur.

They would move on. Bolg's group couldn't be far behind this mindless rabble. And Thorin would personally see to it that the Orc could cause no further harm.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get more than tense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the hive.
> 
> Thanks to all still following the story! Things are moving quickly now...

Dwalin held up his hand.

He, Fíli, and Kíli had been harassing the Orcs day and night, and they were finally making some headway. Bolg commanded by fear, and now his troops had something else they feared possibly more.

One by one, they were being taken by the forest. One by one, they were being killed. And they had no hint of who or what was doing the killing. Only the sharp edges of the cuts that slit their throats remained. No trace of the killers was found. And that there was more than one was obvious; they lost on three sides. 

Dwalin nodded to them and they moved a bit farther back, downwind and out of earshot. “You're doing well, lads,” he said to them as he drew them closer. “They're scared. Now let's make it worse.”

“Tell us what to do.” Fíli's voice was quiet, but strong. Kíli merely nodded. They had both grown harder through this experience and for a moment, Dwalin regretted it. And Thorin would have words on the subject, he was sure. But these two... they were tempered like fine steel, now. They might bend; they certainly still felt as they should, and they ITCHED to help Inara; but they would not break unless the absolute worst befell them. 

They had grown up.

“This is a lot more dangerous. If you don't want to try, it's all right.” He read their faces and inwardly approved. “We start leaving heads in the camp itself.”

Fíli blinked and Kíli stared. “You want us to do what?” Fíli finally asked him.

“If we can do that, why can't we get Inara out?” Kíli demanded.

“Because it would take all three of us at once to carry her,” Dwalin explained patiently. “She's too broken to help us. We'd have to support her completely. We need to get rid of more of them before we can help her.” He knew it was killing them to wait, and it wasn't doing him much good either, but they had to. And they couldn't count on an army to help them. If Thorin was dead, as Bolg claimed, there would be no one to help unless a miracle occurred. 

Both lads nodded and Dwalin gave them a stern look. “I'll draw them out of the camp with some noise or other, and you leave a head. Leave it where it can clearly be seen. And maybe if Inara sees you she'll come back to herself.” He knew otherwise. As broken as she was, it would be a long time, if ever, before she recovered. And if Thorin truly was dead and lost to her, it might never happen.

A roar of rage behind them startled them and they whirled, finding a trio of Orcs had come upon them. It had to have been chance; they were downwind and Dwalin had been sure they couldn't be heard. As it was, they were hard pressed for a moment until the Orcs lay dead at their feet. “Now what?” Fíli demanded as they heard others stirring in the camp, drawn by the noise.

Kíli watched Dwalin for a moment until the big Dwarf pushed them off to the side, into the trees. “Run. Go toward the mountain, north and east. Don't stop.”

“We won't leave you!” Kíli cried as he turned back.

“Go. I'll be behind you.”

(Thorin)

Thorin paused when he heard a scream of rage ahead and motioned for his people to stop as well. Silent, he drew Orcrist once more, waiting. He wasn't disappointed. 

Orc arrows assailed them and one found its mark in his upper arm. It wasn't a killing strike, not even close, but it would hinder his sword arm and that was going to be a problem. More Orcs issued from the trees and were dispatched, but a roar of rage and the sounds of battle alerted them all.

Thorin spun toward the sound as three forms flew outward from the trees, landing heavily as Bolg strode out, hammer in hand. “Hold!” Thorin thundered as the Orc stopped and glared at him, hatred fairly radiating from him.

The Dwarves remained still. This, this was what they were after. Thorin had commanded them to wait, and they would, though they were uneasy. And the Company ranged beside him once more, offering support and promising death if the monster came closer.

Fíli and Kíli helped Dwalin up and all three moved to stand with Thorin as well. 

“Where are your followers, Bolg?” Thorin demanded, his voice hot with rage. “You cannot kill ALL of us before you are cut down.”

“You will not harm me,” Bolg growled as he twitched a hand. More Orcs appeared, dragging Inara between them. Thorin went white, but said nothing. He couldn't even see if she was still alive. She was limp in their grasp, head bowed, and made no move to escape. Was she alive?

“Face me, King Under the Mountain, and I will return the body to you. If you do not, I will have them cut her into tiny pieces before I kill you all.” More Orcs came out then, bows and swords ready, watching the Dwarves and waiting for Bolg's command.

Thorin regarded him steadily. The thought of Inara being cut to ribbons in front of him took the heart of him, but he couldn't fight. It would be a fool's battle, wounded as he was already. He could barely lift his sword arm; the arrow was embedded in the joint. 

Bolg took in his defiance as well as his resignation and his eyes narrowed. He glared up and down the ranks of the Dwarves, as though seeking something, and then an evil half smile appeared on his face. “You would be no challenge, Thorin Oakenshield,” he growled angrily. “But if he were to fight, it would be sufficient. For now.” And he pointed straight at Fíli.

“No.” Thorin's voice was steel. “Choose another.” Not Fíli. Not his nephew, and not his eldest heir. He wouldn't allow it. Did Bolg know who he was choosing? A glance at Inara's limp form gave him the answer. Of course he did. She would have told him anything after she had broken, anything to stop the pain. 

“Him, or we will destroy you. And if I defeat him, Thorin, you will die.” Unspoken was the fact that if Fíli won, Bolg would be dead and the other Orcs would flee before Thorin's Dwarves. They wouldn't chance their prospects against heavily armed and armored attackers. They were cowards.

“I'll do it.” Fíli's voice was strong and Thorin closed his eyes. When he opened them, Fíli was watching him carefully and Thorin drew him aside.

“You cannot do this,” he said simply. “He will destroy you.” And yet he saw the determination in his nephew's eyes and sighed. “Remember EVERYTHING that Dwalin has taught you. Stay alive.”

Fíli nodded and watched his uncle for a moment more before turning -

\- and walking out to meet Bolg.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the hive.
> 
> And for all those still following, reading, and offering kudos. I love you all. :)

Fíli went to meet Bolg, his step firm and his face set. He stopped just out of reach of the Orc's hammer. “You'll forgive me if I don't bow,” he said cheekily. “I reserve that for people.” But he had barely set himself when the monster moved and he narrowly avoided a devastating blow from the hammer. 

He danced backward, keeping his distance for a moment before whirling in close to bring both blades to bear. He scored a strike on Bolg's side but did no real damage and ducked under and back to get behind the Orc.

Bolg snarled and spun, the hammer lashing out and catching Fíli a glancing blow in the side. He fell backward with a curse but kept both blades at the ready, and then managed another smile through the pain. He wasn't about to let this thing know he was hurt. “Try again. I won't be so easy to kill.” He darted forward again, this time scoring a long line across Bolg's back, drawing black blood to the surface and earning him a roar from his opponent.

Bolg growled again, his teeth bared, and swung a massive blow in Fíli's direction. He was flung backward to land on the ground and the Orc was on him, swinging wildly, trying to hit before Fíli could rise, and almost managing it.

Fíli came up with a roar of rage, both blades flashing, scoring another serious hit though he was hurting badly. He came round behind again, aiming for the throat, and missed by mere inches. He snarled. There was no way he was going to be able to conceal his pain from this thing, and it didn't seem fazed by his blows. For a moment he was scared.

He forced it down, holding it deep inside where it couldn't control him. He would kill Bolg, even if it killed him. He wouldn't allow the Orc to kill Thorin. It just wasn't going to happen.

Again he backpedaled when Bolg came at him. If that hammer caught him again, he was going down. He could feel blood on his side where it had smashed through his armor and he moved in again, slashing and whirling and finally doing some real damage. 

Bolg roared again, beginning to swing wildly with the hammer, and Fíli leaped backward to avoid another hit. He held himself still for a moment, grinning at the Orc. “You're slow, Bolg. And you're weak. A kitten would be more challenge than you.” He darted forward, sliced, and Bolg snarled again as the hit drew more blood. It was serious, in that it left his whole forearm open and bleeding badly.

Bolg was enraged, and Fíli leaped forward once more, slicing deeply into the Orc's chest as he went past, whirling and landing another blow on the back of his thigh, hamstringing him. Bolg went down with a great scream of rage, struggling to get back up, and read death in Fíli's face. 

“For what you did to Inara,” Fíli growled as he sliced again, leaving black blood welling up from a deep strike crisscrossing the other on the Orc's chest. “And for what you tried to do to Thorin.” Another cut. “And this one is for all those you've tortured and killed trying to get to us.” He leaned in close as Bolg struggled to rise, unable to do so. “This is a lesson, Bolg,” he said seriously. “The line of Durin is strong. It will not be broken, not by you. Not by anyone.” And he brought both blades down, crossing, to behead the monster.

The Orcs holding Inara dropped her and fled. This puppy their master had said was harmless was anything but, and they had no desire to fall to his blades. Fíli went down hard, flat on his back, struggling just to breathe through what he could now acknowledge as searing pain in his ribs and side.

Thorin sent scouts after the Orcs with orders to destroy them. Without the direction of Bolg, they would be easy prey. Then he went to Fíli, helping the lad sit up to breathe better. He would see to Inara in a moment; she appeared beyond their help and Fíli was still alive. He embraced the lad tightly for a moment before pulling back to watch his face.

“Let Oin see to your hurts,” he said softly. “You've done well, Fíli. Rest.” Another short hug. “I'm proud of you.”

He gave Fíli a final squeeze on his arm and then went to Inara, kneeling down and pulling her to him to hold her. His grief was huge inside him, but he made no sound. One hand held the back of her head, letting her face rest near the junction of his neck and shoulder, and the other softly stroked her pale hair back from her face. Then he just held her close, silent in his grief.

Kíli came close and knelt beside them. “Let me take her, uncle,” he said softly. “She's safe now. Let Oin take care of you.”

Thorin merely held her tighter and then stiffened. Something – something brushed against the skin of his neck. He moved so he could see her face more clearly and then crushed her to him, shouting for Oin. 

She was breathing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the hive.
> 
> And for those who have commented, emailed, kudo'd, and everything else to let me know you're enjoying this. :) Thank you.

Several days later saw little improvement. Fíli was still confined to his bed with badly broken ribs, and to say he was chafing under the restriction was putting it mildly. And Inara, though her eyes were often open, spoke not a word, seeming not to even know where she was or that Thorin remained by her side always.

Kíli bustled between the two rooms, torn between comforting his beloved brother and hoping to see some change in Inara.

Oin was pleased with Fíli's recovery and finally released him from his forced inactivity and he bounced out of his room with renewed energy – but also a new appreciation for the huge responsibility Thorin bore for the whole mountain. He'd felt enough, simply protecting his uncle. And he was the heir to the throne. He'd better get used to it. He didn't want to.

The first thing he would do, he decided, was to find Kíli. Then they could decide what to do next. 

Kíli was with Thorin and Inara. His usually happy face was drawn and sad, and when he saw Fíli, he motioned that they should go into the hall. “She's not getting any better,” he said simply. “She just... Fee, she just lays there. She doesn't even seem to know us. She doesn't know we're there. And she won't let go of that braid no matter what we do.”

“Dwalin said she was broken, but I had no idea.” Fíli tried to conceal his sorrow, but he couldn't manage it. “I thought he meant her body, maybe her spirit. I didn't think he meant this.” He looked in to see Thorin sitting quietly, holding her hand, speaking softly to her and smoothing her hair back. Things he did all day, now, except when matters of state took him away.

“We have to do something.” Kíli was desperate. He couldn't stand seeing her like this and if it was bad for him, how much worse for Thorin? “It's killing him, too.”

“We're doing all we can right now, Kíli,” Fíli replied firmly. “Now, all we can do is wait. Oin says that her body is healing as well as can be expected. There will be scars; but you know she never cared about those. He says it's her mind and her spirit that aren't healing.”

“I don't understand why she would hold onto that braid, though,” Kíli replied as he watched the tableau inside the sickroom. Thorin had taken a cool cloth and was bathing her face with it, murmuring reassurances, and it tore at Kíli's heart to see him so sad. “Doesn't she know that it isn't his? She has to know he's with her.”

“Oin isn't sure how much she hears or sees. He thinks – he thinks that what she saw, what was done to her – it made her hide inside herself.” Fíli sounded uncertain. “And he doesn't know if she'll ever really wake. He doesn't know what to do to show her that she's safe.”

“Then we have to keep trying.” Kíli swore softly and then looked around as though afraid someone had heard. “We have to keep talking to her.”

“Not us. Thorin.” The first glimmer of an idea was forming in Fíli's mind and he wanted to talk to Balin before saying anything. But this was Kíli, surely he would understand. Surely he would help Fíli to make the decision as well. “We need to be doing something else, something to help ease his burden.”

Kíli caught something in his brother's voice and turned to look at him. “Like what?” Fíli was up to something, he could hear it clearly.

“We need to talk to Balin first.” Fíli explained carefully and Kíli considered it only for a moment. He would support Fíli always – and this seemed like a good plan.

“Well, come on then. Let's find him.” Yes, it was a good idea. Unless Thorin decided to object. “He's probably in the main Hall taking care of something or another for uncle.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. Thanks for sticking with me!
> 
> For the hive, with much love...

Balin stared at Fíli for a moment. “You want to do what?” he asked finally. He had known both lads had grown up – living through the quest and its aftermath had seen to that – but this level of maturity he hadn't expected. Nor had he expected Kíli to approve. Yes, they had both grown.

“Someone has to take some of the burden from Thorin,” Fíli explained quietly. “He needs time with her. And if I'm to take this over someday, I'll need to know how to do it. And that's where you come in.” He caught Balin's eye and read the uncertainty there. “Mahal, Balin, I'm not trying to take over NOW! But Thorin needs help. I can do this for him.”

Balin nodded. “It is a sound plan,” he said slowly. “IF Thorin agrees. THAT explanation I leave to you.”

Fíli groaned a bit, but he had asked for this. “Then we should go talk to him.”

(Thorin)

He held Inara's hand, speaking to her in hushed tones, trying to reassure her enough that she might come back to him. She opened her eyes occasionally, but other than that, there was no response.

He knew what torture could do to a person. But this, this hinted at something beyond even his comprehension. And she still wouldn't let go of that braid.

She had to know it wasn't his. He was sitting here, talking to her, stroking her hair, her face, soothing her as best he could, and still she didn't respond to him. 

Oin had said something about her hiding inside herself. And that, none of them knew how to address. 

She was still and silent, always. She made no response when he held her in his lap while they changed the bed linens, nor when he bathed her gently. She responded to nothing save when they tried to remove the braid from her fingers.

He knew why she had thought it his; Garlin had worn silver beads in his hair as well and in the condition Fíli and Kíli had described to him, she wouldn't have been discerning enough to tell the difference. But still it rankled that he couldn't reach her.

He heard the boys in the hallway outside but paid them no heed. Inara held his attention though she didn't move. He couldn't stand to see her this way.

A soft pressure on his fingers surprised him. Had she? No, she was still sleeping. Her eyes were closed, but the hand holding his had shifted slightly.

And the one holding the braid had opened, allowing it to fall from her grasp. She wasn't actively seeking it.

He let his hand rest on her brow once more, absently smoothing her hair back though it didn't really need it. “Inara, please,” he said softly. “Come back to me.”

No, he hadn't imagined it. There was a definite pressure on his fingers this time and he wanted to sing. She was responding to him. “Inara?” he said softly.

She opened her eyes and for the first time, they actually seemed focused. Her voice, when it came, was tiny and frightened. “Thorin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the feedback I've received on this story! For the moment, this is the end. Never fear; the recovery story is already about half written. It will be available soon. There are also several other stories in the works, not all in this series. Until we meet again!


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